THE FIRE OF SEPARATION

Where to do the heart-bereft go, uttering his needs?
To the degenerate how can he reveal my secrets.
With the wise unaware of love sore,
Through the one's mooning no doors will be opened.
Now that the beloved did not let me enter her abode,
We are engaged with our needs and she is with her coquetry.
Tell her a glance through giving a favour,
Make to the devoted lover of her own.
We are the lovers and consumed by the fire of separation,
Pour some water with lover petting hand of your own.
I am desperate with pain, and no one can remedy,
Be graceful with your remedial favour.
Tell the zoroastrian priests, our way is different from yours,
We are with our "ayāz" and you be with the prayer of your own.